By Her Side
by atonalremix
Summary: Usually, when Bonnie talks in her sleep, she murmurs names of friends and long-deceased relatives. One night, however, she murmurs Damon's instead - and for once, Damon can't lord it over her, because if he does, then he's already lost the game between them. (Spoilers for S6).


**Author's Note**

Originally posted on my tumblr, this was a short drabble based on tumblr user thefudge's headcanon: _Sometimes, Bonnie will mumble something about Grams, Elena, Caroline or Jeremy, but some nights, she will call his name and he will be there, watching with a pained expression on his face because he can't tell her he is by her side. Because, above all, he must not let her know how much he needs her._

It should go without saying, this spoils early S6! TVD doesn't belong to me, it's property of the CW (and ostensibly LJ Smith. Ostensibly). As always, please R&R to let me know how I'm doing, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>By Her Side<strong>

The first night, Bonnie sleeps in the Gilberts' old home. She never told Damon where she was going, but it didn't matter - he figured it out anyways, from how she refused to even utter Baby Gilbert's name throughout the day. However, since Baby Gilbert in 1994 was… well, an _actual_ baby, she ends up in Dr. and Mrs. Gilbert's king-sized bed, curled up under their covers and clutching a stuffed animal that Damon vaguely recognizes as Jeremy's.

("How Cullen-like of you," he snarks almost inaudibly to himself, leaning against the doorframe as he observes the slight rise of her chest for a few seconds. Her comforter's nearly fallen off, so he lightly heads over and pulls it back over her sprawled out body. "What's next? Sparkling in the sunlight?")

He had half-expected her to return there that evening (or maybe her Grams' place), but instead, around 11 PM or so, she's hovering nervously by one of the spare guest rooms.

When he quirks an eyebrow up at her, she merely says, "It was cold last night. Plus, I figure…"

He doesn't have to ask, because he already knows: she doesn't feel comfortable sleeping in a ghost of a house, in a ghost of a town that doesn't quite feel like home. He can't blame her, though he does make a mental note to check for lumps in the mattress (man, he didn't remember his being this lumpy in 1994 - or was he too busy with the girls he brought home for dinner?)

For the next two months, she sleeps in one of the many guest rooms in Salvatore Manor. Night after night, the sparsely-decorated room becomes _hers_, with little pieces from her past sneaking in when neither she nor Damon quite expects it. First it's her mother's old wardrobe - "because I'm definitely not wearing Grams'" - and then it's various knick-knacks from Sheila's place.

Periodically, he glances over at her room, peering in to observe her. Some nights, she's kicked off the covers (and of course, he has to pull them back up, because can you imagine the dirt that would end up on it?) while other nights, her precious teddy bear was almost swallowed up by her stack of magical textbooks.

On this particular night, her teddy bear's already on the floor, so he heads in, ostensibly just to place it back in her arms—

Except she reaches over, clinging fiercely to his arm. "Damon."

Most nights, she mumbles Baby Gilbert's name, followed by either Elena's or Caroline's (or, in one puzzling moment he'll never ever figure out, _Stefan's_). Never has his name been uttered so peacefully on her lips. He freezes for half a second, because he wants to sear this memory into his brain, but also partially because he has to give up this stupid game, of pretending that she means so little to him.

Just before he curses his luck, she mumbles, "Damon, can't you make waffles just _once_? Would it kill you to have some variety?"

He resists the urge to laugh, instead allowing himself to be pulled on the bed beside her as she lulls back into a deep sleep. While her grip's strong, it's also gentle - and right now, in this moment, he doesn't see any reason to not indulge her unconscious request.

She releases his arm somewhere between 6:30 AM and 6:50 AM - he's not certain, with the clocks in her room having different times - and reluctantly, he pulls off the covers long enough to see her smile.

Gently, he tucks her back in, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, before descending the stairs to make pancakes. Sure, she might want some variety, but until they can make their way back home, he'll take what he can.


End file.
